“It’s simple. I want to have everything in place when I step off that ferry, because I don’t want to run the risk of having Mama steamroll me into submission. And I can’t live under her roof again.”
“Good thinking. So, where will you live?”
“I’ll rent something near the village short-term. The season will be over after Labor Day, which is this coming weekend, so prices will be down, and availability should be up.”
“What about school for Maggy? Are you sure you won’t have second thoughts about pulling her out of one of the top-ranked prep schools in the state?”
“I’m positive,” Riley said. “Woodlawn is probably great for lots of kids, but not for Maggy. She was miserable there. I’ve checked out the Baldwin County public schools, and they look surprisingly good. Their test scores are decent, and the class size is even smaller than it was at Woodlawn. And I’ve been e-mailing with the principal at the middle school. She seems like she’s really on the ball. And, anyway, the schools I went to growing up in Edenton were small and rural, and I did okay.”
Parrish dipped her egg roll into the last of the duck sauce. “It sounds like you’ve got everything figured out. But what about the missing piece in all of this?”
Riley’s face clouded over. “You mean Nate? That’s a nonissue. This is going to be a big adjustment for Maggy. And for me. Getting us settled into our new lives is my priority. I don’t need any distractions.”
“How’s it gonna be, living and working on the same island with him?”
“It’ll be fine,” Riley said. “I’ll make it work. Somehow.”
62
Evelyn called bright and early on Wednesday. “Listen, honey, I hope you’re planning on coming back this weekend. I want to start getting the house ready to close up for the season, and your brother is no help at all these days.”
“I don’t know, Mama,” Riley said, trying to stall.
“Don’t tell me you weren’t planning on coming at all?” Evelyn said. “You never miss Labor Day weekend. I hope they’re not planning on asking you to work at your new job, are they?”
“No, I’m not working,” Riley said.
“And Maggy will be off school, right?”
“Um, yes, she’ll be off.”
“Then there’s no reason you shouldn’t come. In fact, I’d feel a lot better if you didn’t wait until Friday. Just come tomorrow, will you?”
Riley had been exchanging e-mails with the owner of a small cottage just off the village green, but they’d yet to agree on a price for a long-term rental. She’d been planning on leaving for Belle Isle on Friday, but if she could get the rental agreement today, it could mean getting a jump on traffic heading out of town toward the coast. The last weekend of the summer always meant traffic would be twice as bad.
“All right, I’ll come tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll call and let you know what ferry I’ll be on.”
“Good,” Evelyn said. “Tell Maggy that Roo and Ollie and I have been missing her. We can’t wait to hear all about her new school. And your new job, too.”
“See you tomorrow,” Riley said, shutting down that topic as quickly as possible.
* * *
“We’re leaving now?” Maggy asked, when Riley woke her up at seven the next morning.
“I packed your suitcase while you were sleeping,” Riley said. “Hurry up and get ready. I want to hit the road before traffic gets crazy. You can eat your breakfast and do your meds in the car.”
* * *
Riley pulled to the curb at the ferry loading zone in Southpoint and shook her daughter awake. “Hey,” she said softly. “We’re here. We’ve only got fifteen minutes before it’s time to board. I’ll unload our stuff now, and you go walk Banksy while I park. Okay?”
Maggy nodded sleepily and collected the dog and his leash.
The ferry was just starting to unload arriving passengers when Riley and Maggy began lining up to board. Families and couples streamed off the ferry, weighted down with carry-on baggage, kids, and pets. She was a little surprised at the number of islanders leaving today. After all, this was supposed to be summer’s last hurrah, a three-day weekend.
The horn blew the five-minute warning, and the crowd of departing passengers streamed forward onto the boat. With an eye on high banks of clouds in the sky, Riley herded Maggy into the main-deck cabin.
As the boat lurched away from the landing, Riley clicked the weather app on her phone. The latest bulletin was about what could be expected for this time of year on the southeastern coast.
The National Weather Service is reporting that the second named storm of the season, Tropical Storm Brody, has formed over the eastern Caribbean, as the area experiences winds up to 60 m.p.h., heavy rain, and seas swelling an estimated 15 to 20 feet. Storm projected to track in northwesterly direction over next 24 to 48 hours.
Riley gazed anxiously up at the sky, and then relaxed. Every other Labor Day weekend, it seemed, the National Weather Service issued dire-sounding storm and hurricane warnings, sending newcomers to the coast scurrying for higher ground. But as far back as she could remember, the last hurricane to make landfall anywhere near Belle Isle had been Hurricane Floyd. What year had that been? She Googled it, and the answer was reassuring. It had been 1999.
Maggy sat up on the bench, took out her iPod earbuds, and set Mr. Banks on the floor. “Mom? Is it okay if I go get something at the concession stand?”
“I packed snacks in your bag,” Riley said, looking up from her online search of hurricane statistics.
“I mean something good, like a barbecue sandwich maybe. Okay?”
Riley took a five-dollar bill from her pocketbook and handed it over. “Okay, but I want you to…”
“Mooom! I know what to do? Okay? I’m not gonna screw up and get sick again. I promise. So, will you quit telling me what to do? I’ll test my blood. I’ll take my insulin. And you don’t have to remind me. Every. Single. Time.”
“Sorry,” Riley said. “I’ll try not to be such a helicopter mom.”
* * *
She clipped the leash to the puppy’s collar and walked out to the observation deck. Leaning over the rail, Riley could just spot the silhouette of Big Belle on the horizon. She glanced upward, toward the pilothouse, but the sun’s glare obscured her view. Not that she cared, she told herself.
Maggy was back, happily licking barbecue sauce from her fingers as Riley reclaimed her seat. “I spotted the lighthouse before you did,” Riley said gleefully. “I win.”
“And I spotted your boyfriend,” Maggy said. “He was going up the stairs to the pilothouse.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Riley said quickly, feeling heat seeping into her cheeks.
Maggy gave her an appraising look. “What if I said maybe he’s not as bad as I thought?”
“Really? What made you change your mind?”
“When we were in Raleigh, seeing how depressed you were, it made me sad. And I remembered how happy you were, when you were with him, before I got sick. Remember how you asked me if I didn’t want to see you happy again? I think now, maybe if Nate makes you happy, that’s a good thing.”